The Big Mac is
thirty years old. Think about it, if this was the 60s we wouldnt be able to trust it
anymore. If this was the 80s it would be starring in a TV show about whining yuppies who
have nothing to whine about. But this being the 90s, well celebrate by leaning back
in our La-Z-boy recliner, chowing down a few more of the triple-decker burgers, and
clicking the remote until weve either watched all the TV shows that are plugging it,
from the Discovery Channels "Stalking the Wild Big Mac" to the Fox
Networks "When Big Macs Go Bad", or need to call Batteries-2-Go to deliver
some emergency AAAs for the remote, whichever comes first.

Amazingly, McDonalds sells about 600 million
of the sandwiches a year, which is three for every man, woman, and child in the United
States who should be out exercising rather than sitting in their car asking for "Two
all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bunand
while youre at it, supersize it", all the while trying to understand the
incomprehensible squawking thats coming out of the speaker at the drive-through. To
put it another way, its over a billion patties, nearly 2 billion bun pieces, 15
billion sesame seeds, and enough cattle to upholster 75,000 living room sofas.

You have to give McDonalds credit for
the Big Mac. After all, thirty years is a long time in the burger world. In that time,
McDonalds tried out a lot of new products, with only Chicken McNuggets catching the
worlds fancy, proving that the American public prefers their food to be chopped,
reformed, and have a name which resembles something you dont want to step on in a
barnyard.

The McDonalds in
Irwindale sell 337 Big Macs a year per resident, though to be fair that figure includes
sandwiches sold to travelers, people from surrounding towns, and Chihuahuas which are
tired of eating gorditas.

Not everything
theyve done has been a success. A couple of years ago McDonalds, jealous of
all the publicity Coke got for releasing New Cokethe Waterworld of soft
drinkscame out with the Arch Deluxe. In a sales and marketing coup that makes a
Pauley Shore film retrospective sound like a killer idea, McDonalds actually managed
to sell one burger for each time they ran an incomprehensible ad on TV. Unfortunately they
didnt run enough ads to make any money. While this made the Arch Deluxe at least as
good a seller as their diet-conscious McLean sandwich (motto: "At least it looks like
a burger"), thats not really saying much, since the McLean sank quicker than
"Titanic" on fast forward.

But try telling this to the citizens of Irwindale, California and
you might hear a different story. This town of 1,045 people has won the right to post a
sign declaring it to be "The Home of the Big Mac Fanatics", and who could blame
them if they did? After all, if Baker can try to attract people by calling itself
"The Gateway to Death Valley" then its obvious that good city mottoes are
getting hard to come by. Besides, it beats the alternative, "Named After a Guy Named
Irwin."

For reasons which even the residents of
Irwindale are afraid to think about, the McDonalds there sell 337 Big Macs a year
per resident, though to be fair that figure includes sandwiches sold to travelers, people
from surrounding towns, and Chihuahuas which are tired of eating gorditas.

In general, though, fast food restaurants
are having a tougher time of it these days. Overall sales are static at McDonalds
23,300 restaurants. Pizza Hut recently closed their two Moscow outlets, reportedly because
the Russian economy is flatter than a thin-crust pizza, though it also may be linked to
having used former Soviet president Mikhail "That Aint A Pizza Stain on My
Head" Gorbachev as a spokesperson.

This explains why they wont flambe your Crepes Suzette tableside since its too
cumbersome to roll the TurboChef out into the dining room.

But worse signs
are on the horizon. If a Dallas-based company has its way, the days of going out for fast
food may soon be numberedthey intend on making all food fast food. Theyre
getting ready to put out an oven called the TurboChef which they claim will roast a
chicken in four minutes, cook vegetables in 100 seconds, and turn out a four-minute egg
while its still in the hen. Just kidding. About the egg, anyway. To do that
youd have to put the hen in the TurboChef, and even then youd have to cook it
for four minutes while piling chairs against the door so the protesters from PETA
couldnt get in the kitchen.

The
ovens work by using a combination of turbo-charged hot air, microwaves, and mirrors left
over from a Penn and Teller magic trick that was too gross for even David Letterman to
air. Think about it. Now youll be able to make Minute Rice in ten seconds, Quick
Oats in five seconds, and have instant pudding ready to eat before you can open the box.

The company already makes a version of the
oven for commercial use. This explains why you no longer have to remember to order Peking
Duck the day before you want it, your main course so often shows up before your
appetizers, and they wont flambe your Crepes Suzette tableside since its too
cumbersome to roll the TurboChef out into the dining room.

If this works as promised, its hard
to imagine that Big Macs will make it another thirty years. Once the TurboChef is built
into the La-Z-boy well just hit the "Food" button, a menu will appear
onscreen, well choose Big Mac, and before we know it well be happily munching
our two all beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun
while watching PSN, the Pauley Shore Network. Does it get any better than
this?